


Downtown

by chadleymacguff



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, F/M, M/M, Mental Illness, References to Suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 16:36:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/599858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chadleymacguff/pseuds/chadleymacguff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Today was the first day I can remember feeling remotely okay. It’s not every day that you can wake up and say that. At least I can’t.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Downtown

**Author's Note:**

> I've been interested in doing something I haven't done before so I thought something along the lines of mental illness might be fun. thanks again to my beta Reyne

Today was the first day I can remember feeling remotely okay. It’s not every day that you can wake up and say that. At least I can’t. Most days I wander about feeling hollow inside, going through the motions and pretending that I’m fine when I’m not. No one ever notices. They smile back and walk by and go on with their own happy little lives, but they never notice me. Not even my parents. They’re too busy trying to keep everything together. Making a good impression, keeping up appearances; that’s more important to them. They’d never take heed to what’s going on in my life. But none of this is about them. It’s really about anyone really. Just me and how I ended up here. How did I end up here?

“Stiles? Are you listening?” The man asked tapping his pen on the edge of his pad of paper.

_He’s been sitting and taking notes on our entire session. Notes about how messed up I really am and possible forms of treatment to cure what could possibly wrong with me. I doubt he’s written anything at all. If there is anything there I bet it’s a grocery list or a drawing of him hanging himself. I can tell he wants to be here less than I do._

“Yeah. Why?” Stiles could feel the muscles in his forehead tense at the question.

The man straightened his glasses, leaning back in his chair to get more comfortable. “Because. You’ve been sitting there for five minutes just staring at me.”

“So?” He shrugged.

“So I asked you a question. The polite thing would to at least answer me.” The man clicked his pen to jot something down on the pad in his lap. “Especially since I’m only doing this as a favor to your father.”

“Right. Sorry.” Stiles pulled out a cigarette from the pack in his front pocket. “Do you have a lighter?” He nodded, tossing over the lighter that was sitting on the desk. “So. Doctor Argent. Do you have a prognosis?” He blew a stream of smoke at the Doctor, looking to get a rise out of him.

_I’ve always hated Doctors, let alone shrinks. They always have to analyze everything and put it into some kind of box. Not everything is so black and white but they seem to think it is. You’re either this or you’re that. You’re crazy or you’re sane. Everyone is insane._

“Well, that would be dependent on the answer to my question?”

“And what _question_ is that?” He made it a point to blow more smoke the good doctor’s direction, knowing that it would irritate him. Much to his surprise, Dr. Argent didn’t mind.

“Why did you try to kill yourself?”

He paused for a moment, the thought seeming preposterous in origin. Stiles pulled out another cigarette, lighting it with the nearly burnt out butt in his hand.

“I didn’t.” He said exhaling. “It was an accident.”

“You accidently attempted suicide?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know. I just wanted it to stop.” Stiles lit another cigarette. He’d already burned through half his pack and he’d just gotten it yesterday.

Stiles could see from something moving from the corner of his eye, someone outside. “What is he doing?”

His father was putting a small suitcase on the corner. He’d driven him over to Dr. Argent’s so the suitcase had come as surprise to him. Why hadn’t he noticed it in the backseat?

“Stiles.”

“Huh?” He asked. His attention suddenly refocused back to the conversation with the Doctor.

“What exactly did you want to stop?”

Stiles could still hear the roaring of the emergency room. The rolling of the gurney wheels on the hospital floor. The orderlies shouting for him to stay awake, asking him questions about what he’d taken and how long ago it’d been; bright lights shining into his eyes that couldn’t seem to focus. He could still feel the tube cramming its way down his throat, gagging on every inch.

He could hear a faint voice that had to be miles away. “Stiles?” Whoever it was, they were getting closer; easier to make out. “Stiles? Are you still with me?”

_I must have zoned out. Dr. Argent was staring at me, his eyes wide in examination. Weird. I hate when people do that. I must have been out for a while. The cigarette in my hand was completely burned out. I don’t even remember lighting it._

“Yeah. What was the question?”

The Doctor removed his glasses, wiping the lens with the handkerchief from his front pocket. Stiles could tell from the look on his face, Dr. Argent’s patience was beginning to falter.

“What did you want to stop Stiles? What were you so desperate to put an end to that you ingested the contents of your father’s medicine cabinet?”

Stiles tapped the butt of another cigarette on the edge of the table next to him. His eyes wandered to the window where he could see his father still standing outside.

“What is he doing? He’s just…standing there.” His eyebrows scrunched together trying to work out the equation in his head of why his father would be out there. It wasn’t until he heard the good doctor clear his throat that he remembered where he was. “Oh, yeah.” He placed the cigarette between his lips. “Everything. I just wanted it to stop.”

Dr. Argent flipped his notepad closed and tossed it onto his desk.

“I think you might need to take some time away from everything. Clear your head. Figure out what it is you want to do with your life.”

_I wasn’t sure where this conversation was going but I was sure I didn’t like it._

“What do you mean?” He tucked the unlit stick behind his ear, scratching at an itch on the side of his face.

Dr. Argent stood up, coaxing Stiles to follow him outside. Stiles was wary but if anything he was going to figure out what his father was doing outside all that time. Upon exiting the poorly decorated house, his father nowhere in sight. Just the empty street and the small suitcase left sitting on the sidewalk.

Before Stiles had a moment to react, a taxi stopped in front of the driveway.

“What’s—“

“You’re parents, taking my suggestion; think that it’s best that you take a few weeks out in the country.” He interjected.

The words played over a few times in his head before Stiles finally put it together.

“You don’t mean up at Beacon Hills?” Stiles attempted to hide shock in his voice, something he was certain was obvious.

Dr. Argent nodded opening the door to the backseat. “It’s not all bad. It will be a nice quiet for you to collect your thoughts. Maybe even jot a few down, you know, for your novel.”

_That’s when he smiled at me. It was the most condescending smile I’d ever seen. It was the kind that tried to reassure you that it was all for the best when in fact it was just all they could do. I don’t remember telling him that I was writing a novel. I must have mentioned it in passing or maybe my dad told him something about it. At this point it didn’t matter, the good doctor was already in the distance of the rearview mirror with the driver asking me where to. It killed me to say it but I knew I had to._

“Beacon Hills Institute. Please.” He lit another cigarette, blowing the smoke into the back of the passenger side window.

“Can you not do that in here?”

“Can you shut the fuck up and just drive?”

_The driver turned his focus back to the road as I stared out the taking in the last sights I would probably see for a while. The trees got thicker the closer we got, it was already starting to feel like the world was closing in and this guy’s lack of deodorant wasn’t making to transition any better. What is that garlic and cloves? The cab pulled to stop in the driveway overlooking the grounds. It was conveniently right at the foot of the steps._

“Good. I don’t feel like walking.” He mumbled

“Enjoy your stay.” The driver snapped.

Stiles gave him some semblance of a smile and stepped out of the cab. A woman dressed in white stood next to the steps of the entrance, a sign in an arch reading Beacon Hills Mental Institution. She extended her hand, beaming from ear to ear, her strawberry blonde hair in curls cascading down over her shoulders. Her silky skin and cheerful nature made her presence seem out of place, at least in a place as dreary as a mental institution.

“Welcome to Beacon Hills! I’m Nurse Martin, I’ll be checking you in and showing you the facility.” Her smile was brilliant. Stiles would be lying if he said it didn’t give him a familiar tightening in his chest.

Stiles lit his last cigarette. He was going to have to take a note to refill sometime before the end of the day. Stiles made it a point to not blow smoke anywhere near the beautiful woman in front of him, fearing that he might taint her beauty in some way.

“Oh I get the five star treatment. I hope there’s a bar in here somewhere.”

“I think you’ll fit right in.” She said, turning on the balls of her feet to the door.

_God I hope she’s joking._


End file.
